Revans And Exiles
by Gone Rampant
Summary: AU. Dark Side Exile, Gray Jedi Revan. Revan and The Exile meet in a prison cell on a corrupt world. Thoughts about murder and gizkas insue. Ignores the Revan novel, OC's for Revan Exile, will continue if prompted.


_**Revans and Exiles**_

_**Well, my first main Star Wars fanfic (Unless you count writing in the Clone Wars section) and I'm gonna go down the path of Revan and Exile meeting for the first time. This is for a contest over on DeviantART, where the condition is that it must be the first time the twosome meet. Wish me luck. **_

_**Set: In an AU set after KOTOR 2 where Exile is wandering the galaxy, the Jedi Temple is prospering, and Revan is also wandering.**_

_**Note: In this case, it's my normal Revan and Exile- Revan's name is Marikane Cananvi, Exile is Sara Blackheart. Revan's a Gray Jedi, Sara's Dark Side. This should be fun. Marikane's thoughts are Italics, Sara's are Bold. **_

_**Disclaimer: KOTOR 1 belongs to BioWare/LucasArts; KOTOR 2 belongs to Obsidian/LucasArts.**_

_**00000**_

It turns out, being locked in prison sucks. Marikane Cananvi was learning this the hard way as he woke up on the floor of... _Where am I? Looks like prison. Mind you, I once thought the Jedi Enclave on Dantoine was the inside of the star Forge, so I'm probably not good with first impressions._

Marikane looked around the cell- Six metres high, fourteen metres wide. On the opposite end of the room were some beds, on which one of them lay... _Well, it's a girl, obviously. Maybe 5 foot nine. _

The woman turned- close-cropped dirty-blonde hair, pale... oh yeah, yellow eyes- not a renegade Sith/Jedi hybrid without them.

_You're screwing with me, right? Me, locked up with a SITH, after a kill a few thousand of them. Why does scream "You're gonna get the crap beat out of you!" to me? I know- because I'm RIGHT!_

**Wonderful. Now I've got a Rogue Jedi who may or may not have killed a few hundred annoying Sith while he was going about destroying the Empire, now he's probably thinking about how this is gonna end. The answer is simple- me on top, a knife I smuggled lodged in his ribs.**

_I get the sense she's thinking about killing me. Aren't Sith wonderful company- the try to kill me, and now they're gonna get me simply because I forgot to pay for fuel. And I may have blown up a space station. Or five._

Marikane and the woman continue their mental arguments with themselves for several minutes, looking to an observer like they're in the world's most trippy staring contest, until two plates of food on a tray was roughly shoved through the door- nondescript crap I wouldn't serve to someone I was torturing.

Marikane slowly backed towards the tray, when it shot forwards to the Sith's hand.

"You know, you could have just asked," he muttered darkly, before grabbing his own plate off the tray with the Force. He then sat against the door, picking at it slowly. _Sweet Bastilla's mom, what is this crap? Makes me wanna eat gizka. Yes, I just thought that._

Sara sat up, looking across at Marikane, who looked like he was having bowel troubles from the food.

**Poor sod. Probably just came straight from the Enclave, where they still have hot food, warm beds, a central heating system- Korriban is so fuckin' cold at night for a desert.**

Marikane eventually managed to swallow his first mouthful, where he is sure, to this day, it's still there.

"So Sith," Marikane states casually, looking at his fingernails. "What you in for?"

Sara tilts her head.

"Existing on a xenophobic world, running, becoming a Sith Lord, kick-starting a new Empire, murder and littering. You?" she states drily.

"Blowing stuff up, resisting arrest, telling the Jedi Council to piss off, blowing up space stations, formerly being the Dark Lord of the Sith, pick any of them." Marikane shoots back, equally drily.

**Oh, a snarker. Joy of joys, my life is complete.**

_She's snarking mentally, I know it._

"Do I get to know your name?" Marikane asked, putting a hand behind his head.

"Sara."

"Sara..." Marikane leaves the question in the air, motioning for her to proceed.

"Sara, "Try and learn my surname and I'll have a sith fleet on you so fast your head will spin.""

"... Your parents must have hated you. And you have fleets? I heard you were all dead after that thing on Malachor V" Marikane tells her in a deadpan voice.

"I swear to God, I will kill you." Sara slowly pulls a small knife out of her boots. **Sever throat to stop any screaming, and take time pulling out his veins and show them to the camera.**

"I'm right here." Marikane extends his arms freely, as in to say "Take your best shot." _OK, Force-Push her knee out of position, followed by Lightning to the head to cause trauma, and neutralise the arm to grab the knife and plunge it into her carcass of a heart... _

"In front of the camera." Sara tells him coldly.

"They put cameras in prison cells?" Marikane's face suddenly drains of blood.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, to make a long story short, I now feel guilty about something I may have done in prison with a few friends of mine a few years ago." Marikane says sheepishly.

**Please. Orgies in cells are becoming more common then sarcasm.**

"So what's your name?" Sara asks after some silence.

"Marikane Cananvi, blower-upper of Star Forges." Marikane says confidently, his chest swelling a bit.

"And you admit this to every sith you get locked up with?" Sara's eyebrow rises slowly.

"Just the cute ones." Marikane shoots back, winking.

Sara stands up, rubbing her legs after lying down for so long. You gonna try to break out?" she asks bluntly.

"No, I'm gonna serve a life sentence and get my ass kicked by guards all day." Marikane deadpans.

"You remember your trial?"

"I dimly remember getting the crap beat out of me in a back alley outside a bar- at first I thought I was about to get raped by an S&M junky. Then I realised they were men, and they were saying stuff like "Under arrest." That kind of got my attention."

"And they attacked you because..?"

"I may have been killing corrupt police in my spare time." Marikane stands up too- the ex-Jedi stand eye to eye.

"Takes balls to admit that in front of a camera."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Marikane snarks, when the door opens- five heavily armed guards come in, all with body-armour, stun-sticks, vibroblades and fully-automatic blasters.

"Something tells me they're not here to give us a spa treatment, you fate-tempting jackass." Sara's breath is hot in Marikane's ear- he stands impassively, slowly examining the guards.

_Don't even need to sense their thoughts to know what they're gonna do to her. And maybe there's some light in her still. So leap to the one on the left, grab his rifle, use him as a shield and get close enough so that hand-to-hand combat doesn't seem like a suicide mission._

**If he really was Revan, then he definitely needs to let go in a few different meanings of the word. What better way to get the old Dark Lord back in the saddle? And that one in the middle- lightning into his heart, leap into the one of the right, knee him in the balls and Force Repulse the whole damn room into submission.**

The two look at each other, small smirks settling across their features.

_**This should be interesting...**_ the two think simultaneously, as Marikane's hands start to fizzle with lightning, and Sara's hand tightens on the knife. As one, the two vault out of their positions for the guards, and another night of "fun" began.

_**00000**_

_**And that is that! This was a lot of improvisation, doing something on the fly, and mostly to see how I can do with dialog scenes. The answer? Well, that's what reviews are for.**_

_**Anyway, review, favourite/subscribe and tell me what you think, and I'm Gone Rampant, signing out. Keep the peace. **_


End file.
